George,” by Matt Chappel

George Matt Chappel Tyner Award for Fiction Nominated by C. Vince Samarco, Professor of English

Matt Chappel is an English literature major with a sociology minor originally from Marlette, Michigan. A member of the 20th class of Roberts Fellows, he will graduate in Spring 2021. Matt spends his free time running, woodworking, fly-fishing, and hanging out with his wife. The writing that inspires him most is poetry, and he has a particular affinity for Robert Frost. When Matt graduates, he plans to travel and write about his experiences.

“George” was written for Creative Writing: Fiction (ENGL 306); Matt says “George” is a stand-alone work, but this story and its threads may “spin off” into other pieces.

“Well then, there’s Sheila.” “How old were you?” “About seventeen.” “How many years ago was this?” “About nine.” “Go on.” I fidgeted in the chair. The chair was black, maybe navy. It was plush and comfortable. I stared at it awhile. Light through the window cast a square of sun on my knee. I rubbed where the light was. “George?” “Yes.” “You were talking about Sheila.” “Mhm…” And before the chair was a long table with a steaming cup of tea on a coaster and the tea bag was still in the cup. The tea darkened as the leaves steeped. There were lots of books on the table. They were stacked in piles of three, each with a yellow sticky note with a name on it. My name wasn’t on any of the piles. I wondered where my stack of books was. I remember when I was fifteen reading a long mystery book, no it was a drama, or a drama-mystery. A woman, Sara, had had an affair with a neighbor. She was a stay-at-home and her husband, Craig, worked long hours at the office and Bill next door seemed to always be there on the edge of the yard, working in the garden, mowing the lawn, trimming a tree. I guess he wore tight shirts and Sara really liked that and somehow or other they ended up getting together. Then one evening, Sara had made dinner for Craig, but he hadn’t come home. The food went cold. Craig stumbled into the house after midnight, dirty and drunk and went straight to the bathroom to wash his hands. After that Bill wasn’t seen around his hou— “George.” “Yeah.” “Are you feeling alright? Should we call your mother?” “No, no, I’m okay. She’s at work anyway.” “Alright, I’m ready when you are.” “Okay. Uh, Sheila. We started meeting outside Charlie’s on Friday nights…. ” “Did anyone else know about this?”

“Uh no, no. It was just me and Sheila.” “None of your friends knew?” I looked down at my feet. “No.” “What did you and Sheila do?” “Sometimes we’d go in for a drink. I sat in a back booth where it was dark. She ordered the drinks and brought them back. The bartenders either never knew or never asked about me, I guess.” “Is that all you did?” “No.” “What else?” “Other times she took me to an apartment.” “Was it hers?” “Yes, well, no. I don’t know. She always carried around a tiny red purse with a large key ring inside. There were a lot of keys on it.” “Was there ever anybody else at the apartment?” “No. It was empty.” “Did you feel comfortable there?” “I guess. I mean, I really didn’t need to be comfortable.” I noticed a potted plant in the window. Some of its stalks were broken; other stalks were withered brown and drooped onto the window sill. “That plant is dying.” I nodded to it. He looked over his glasses at it. “Yes, I’ll have to remember to water it.” Back in the fifth grade I remember once going over to a friend’s party. Chad. After the candles and cake, I guess he thought it’d be funny to shove me in a closet. The other kids went along with him and locked the door. They told me they were just playing a joke, I guess, but I pounded on the door and screamed until my throat was hoarse and tears came down in buckets. I could hear them laughing. In the dark, I curled up in a corner next to a vacuum cleaner and went silent. Chad’s mom wanted to know what was going on. “Oh, honey,” she said when she opened the door. The kids who were gathered outside the door parted as we passed by. She put me in the kitchen and got me a glass of water and sat with me until my parents came. At home they asked what happened. I told them I didn’t know. They didn’t ask any more questions. The ray of light warmed my knee and I rubbed it again. “What did you do there?” “Hmm?” “At the apartment—you were saying Sheila took you to an apartment.” “Oh, well, we just fooled around I guess.” “Do you want to talk specifically about what happened?” “We just fooled around.” “Okay, that’s fine, George. How many times did you meet with Sheila?” “I don’t know.” “What did you feel your relationship with her was like?” “I don’t know.” My throat was starting to get dry. I wanted a glass of water, but I didn’t want to ask for it. But my throat was so parched. I tried to clear my throat. My parents took me to some sand dunes one time. The sand was rough and gritty and there was a strong wind that day and sand blew in my face and hair and mouth. I coughed, hacking, and said I didn’t want to go up to the top. Don’t be a sissy, my father said, and Mom slapped him on the arm. At the top I remember looking out and thinking we were in the desert. I didn’t know we had deserts in our state. There were mountains of sand, valleys and hollows. The dunes seemed to stretch on forever. I wondered what it would be like to be buried in the sand.

“George?” “Mhm, yes, Sheila. Uh… can you repeat the question?” “I was just wondering how you felt about Sheila. Did you have any romantic feelings for her?”

“I guess. There’s a lot I don’t remember.” “If you feel comfortable, try to recall as much as you can.” “I think mostly I just liked her.” Freshman year of high school there was a girl, Alexis. Lexi for short. She was thin and had short black hair and freckles. On nacho day I bumped into her in the cafeteria and made her spill her tray. I gave her my tray and got a mop and a pan to clean the floor. The next day she asked me to sit with her at lunch and we laughed about my clumsiness. I laughed so loud the other kids stopped eating lunch and stared at me. When Lexi and I started dating I felt really good. I mean, somebody looked at me and asked me questions and smiled. I guess I wanted… maybe I never knew what I wanted. I wanted her. Lexi’s parents were in business and were always taking long trips—sometimes in the same week. The first time I ever snuck out of the house was to go see her. In the morning when I got home, and I couldn’t tell my parents where I had been, my father beat me with a belt while my mother cried quietly in the kitchen. I didn’t even feel the pain. I guess I was somewhere else. When I didn’t react, my father beat me until I begged him to stop. I couldn’t go out for track that year. I spent that season going to physical therapy for my sciatic nerve. Shortly after that Lexi broke up with me and started hanging around Chad. “What’s that?” “What, oh, the cleaning lady’s in the next room. Will it be a distraction for you?” “No, I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay.” “Now where wer— ” “I’ll be okay.” “George?” “Yeah. Nothing! I’ll be okay.” “Hey, George, maybe we better call it a day, okay?” “Okay. I’ll be okay.” “George, will you look at me? Good. I need you to breathe, George. Breathe, yes, just like we practiced, big breath in and let it out. Good.”